Victor Black - And the Garden of the Gods

Chapter 38: Beginning of the End

"Willow, where are you?" Victor cried out in his head.

No one heard him.

He resided between worlds—the red rocks of the Garden and the grassy, unspoiled planes of the new world. He also felt the cold, hard surface of the pedestal he woke upon in the dim room, at the end of Summer, when he first met Seraph.

He remembered something else, something unexpected: water. He felt wetness—the tugging of an ocean wave drawing him out.

He couldn't feel his feet, as he should be standing on the snowy surface at the base of the monolith. His body seemed to float, the only sensation being the sounds coming at him from the water, the Earth, and the air.

Whirring helicopters chopped and clapped against the cold, morning air. They hovered, beating back the sounds of trucks, feet running, and someone calling Victor's name.

"Victor," the voice rang out from overhead.

A man's voice rang out from a speaker and drowned out all others. It was familiar.

"Dad?"

"You need to stop now. Don't —"

Mr. Black's voice was drowned out by the screams of girls. They, too, called his name: "Victor."

He remembered.

Victor remained where he had stopped, ever since Shadow broke through the brush to see what he had done. He had seen her, but he had not responded, so new was the experience of being connected to so many places at one time. His head throbbed. His hair stood on end. Bolts of invisible energy coursed through his stiff, motionless body as Shadow came and went.

Now she returned, devoid of her clothes, as were all those around her, staring at him. He saw them too, but he couldn't move as they charged toward him, violently begging, and repeating the same thing: "When?"

He remembered the intended location: Newearth, which he had renamed Nemesis. The gate itself grew directly behind him. It looked like a bright, shimmering, golden light on the rocky surface, and had no barrier—one could pass through it as though walking through cellophane; a gentle push, and it would tear away. Bare footsteps would move instantly from the cold, snowy, and chaotic Colorado park, to a warm, sunny, and untouched prairie on the new world.

On one side of the gate, to his left, also flickered a blueish, door width patch—another gateway—, but where it went, he didn't know. The light itself felt cold, and when he focused on it, the sensation of being pulled by the ocean's rip currents—wet and churning—overtook his senses.

The third, smaller gate, silver-white, to his right, also opened. It caressed the edge of the gateway to the new world. Unlike the blue, it felt familiar and safe. Victor couldn't get an image of Hawaii—or Kai—out of his mind as he absorbed the heat radiating from it.

His thoughts were quickly overtaken by the demanding Grays, Shadow, and what appeared to be bright lights coming through the brush behind them.

Military, thought Victor, here to stop us; and the helicopters, overhead.

He heard his father's voice.

Mr. Black shouted from the loudspeaker above, echoing off the rocks: "Stop now, I don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't. I can't," said Victor. He shouted at Shadow, "GO!"

Victor looked Shadow in the eyes. She stood in front of him, her hands on his shoulders, shaking him, begging for guidance.

"Go," Victor spoke to her, "behind me, the large gate, all of you, now. I believe—I'll see you again."

"Thank you," said Shadow in a low, and kind voice. She kissed him on the cheek.